I am standing in the valley as the very beginnings of twilight descend.
I stand in a clearing between the trees. It is silent except for the gentlest sound of the evening breeze as it caresses the leaves, bidding them sweet dreams. The river winds affectionately between them, chattering to itself and anyone that is listening as it tumbles over the small cascades that rise and fall along its path.
In my head I begin to hear the soft timpani rolls that prelude the Berlioz’s Marche au Supplice from Symphonie Fantastique. And as the wind instruments introduce the theme I begin to understand this image. I am Mickey Mouse, or at least I am like that famous rodent, and this is Disney’s classical masterpiece; but there are no cliché costumes, no mops or buckets, no pots and pans nor plates demanding my toil……
Above me I start to make out silhouettes. At first I think bats, but they are too high and they have tails. Then I see more. And as some start to swoop lower I realise they are dragons. They can smell me they and I see their nostrils flair as they slowly start to approach me. Checking in with me, cautious at first, but ever closer as they feel more at ease and sure of me.
They circle around me. Sometimes brushing against me. A feather’s touch in scales. They are close enough to make out the occasional golden glint in their eyes. And suddenly it as if I have known them forever.
Their rising and falling in the sky becomes more pronounced. They are playing, dragon “lambs” gamboling in the evening breeze, riding the last updrafts of that passing day.
As the music rises, they fly higher, touching the clouds, and then they entwine themselves like ivy might a tree, and plummet as one, earthbound, like a pair of mating bald eagles. They disentangle at what seems to be a mere few inches above me and glide away to each side of me, only to rejoin to ascend once more.
The sky is now full with this roller coaster game and there is only pleasure in the moment. Pure joy. Ecstasy. We are joined in this moment and this moment becomes an eternity. There is a ballet in the skies around me, its moves syncopating the music which surely cannot just exist in my head.
With the last crescendo the dragons swoop and brush against me one last time, with a touch that reflects a lovers farewell kiss for their partner, and then they slowly fade into the tree line.
There is a darkness on the horizon, and it is not just in the east. This darkness is not the night.
These dragons are the ancient children of Gaia. And she has awoken them. Gaia is calling her sons to arms.